


His words were inviting

by Maura_Moo



Series: Run away with me [1]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, les jacobs & original female character
Genre: Angst, Angsty Jack Kelly, Anxious David Jacobs, Based on a Tumblr Post, Based on a roleplay, Being Lost, Bisexual David Jacobs, Bisexual Jack Kelly, Bisexual Male Character, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, David Jacobs/Jack Kelly-centric, Eventual Happy Ending, Extended Metaphors, Gay Newsies, Goodbyes, Heartbreak, How Do I Tag, I Ship It, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I love Cora, If you only read one work by me, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jack Kelly Being an Idiot, Jack being Jack, Javey - Freeform, Jewish David Jacobs, Les Misérables References, M/M, Mentioned Les Jacobs, Not Canon Compliant, OC mentions, Original Broadway Cast, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Rain, Sad, Santa Fe, Song fic, Unrequited Love, What Have I Done, also posted on Tumblr, david jacobs has a panic attack, dyslexic writer, i dreamed a dream, i tried to write, im sorry, jack kelly mentions, jack kelly runs away, javid - Freeform, just sad david, les jacobs is a good little brother, mentions of david starving himself, mentions of oc, newsies oc, nobody is straight in newsies, please let it be this, sad davey, she is my precious angel, very slight, youre meant to hate jack kelly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:36:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26904481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maura_Moo/pseuds/Maura_Moo
Summary: angsty writing I have been planning for weeks with my friends! Based on I dreamed a dream from Les Mis. Its really long and I tried and it came to 7 pages on google docs. I wrote this at 4 am.I don't know how to summerise but it's gay.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Jack Kelly - Relationship
Series: Run away with me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963105
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	His words were inviting

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time ever writing Javid, I tried. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Please don't forget to leave comments or kudos or whatever. 
> 
> ALSO!! I go by a new name now. Mouse Higgins. So if you ever wanna comment on my stuff, use Mouse instead of Maura please. 
> 
> :)

Davey stared at the fallen leaves scattered at his feet, crunching and curling with his stumbling steps. Jack has been gone a month? Two? David couldn’t remember. 

He just knew that the pain hadn’t gone and no amount of spent tears and empty screams to the sky would dull the ache. 

His hands trembled and his head felt like his thoughts were quick-stepping through his head, loud and furious; stopping on his brain forcing flashes of him and Jack together in front of his eyes. He was duct-taped to a theatre chair watching his heartbreak happen before his eyes.

Part of him longed to step on stage, squint against the bright lights piercing through the blinds of his eyelashes and cup Jack’s face between his hands. Run a careful thumb across his lips before resting his forehead against his. 

He’d watch Jack open his mouth, his lines tingling on his parted lips before he’d be cruelty stolen away again, dragged off stage with the changing of a scene.

The play would always end the same; with the screaming applause of his alarm clock and Davey waking up his arms wrapped protectively around himself. Jack is barely a ghostly figure against them. He’d lay there for a few moments, soaking in the last few strands of Jack; the fake trace of sandalwood and printer ink in the air, the phantom of acrylic paints staining his cheeks. 

He’d lay in bed until he could no longer remember the playbook of his life. No longer able to look back to when he was the star of the production, standing on the stage with his head held high and his life, paved out like lit stars, was worth living.

Jack was David’s dream yet Davey was nothing more than a prop. Something to be made and used and wasted tossed aside to the street rats.  
Movement next to him startled him out his thoughts and his eyes shifted cautiously over to his side, almost wishing that Jack would roll over and he’d be met by his warm brown eyes, so dark and magical that he’d have to search for his pupils, still stained and lulled with sleep. But it was a dream, a wish that couldn’t be. 

“Mornin Dave” 

Dave smiles softly at his brother. Trying to force the envious bitterness away from the curled corners of his lips. 

He was bitter towards his brother; Les had the world so easy. God was so forgiving to children like Les. They didn’t have to think, to linger on, the times when people’s voices were soft and men were kind. The world was innocent and free for children like Les and how David hated every moment, every cheeky smile his brother flashed, every sparkle of his eyes sent cold shivers down his spine. He was angry that Les could just keep on living while his brother died slowly in the sea of heartbreak at his side. 

Both Jacobs brothers had been wrapped up in Jack Kelly’s inviting words the first day they joined. The world had been mapped out like the perfect song; loud and exciting at their feet. And they hopped from note to note willingly. Davey’s love had been blind throughout the song of the strike, the chase kiss behind the fire escape the expected but much-needed crescendo. He relaxes back against his pillow and closes his eyes. Maybe if he drifts back into the dream nothing can go wrong. 

Maybe he’ll wake up again, with his hair tousled by the early morning wind and the metal floor of the penthouse chilling his bare skin. Maybe he’ll wake up in a time where no wine sat untasted and no love song sat unsung, drifting cautiously away to weave around the stars. Just maybe, if he closed his eyes tight enough he could grab the last strands of the stitched stars and they’ll take him back to a time where the world was a song. Jack’s song and the song was exciting. 

Maybe if he closed his eyes tight enough, and tried his best to sleep he would go back to feeling young and unafraid. Back to David Jacobs, he was before.  
David Jacobs with high hopes for the future and a life that would worth living.

David could dream that Jack would come back to him, and they could live the shadowed years together in a large apartment with small windows and books scattered around at their feet. 

Maybe he’d wake up in the theatre all over again; standing on the stage with his head held high. 

Hopefully, David wouldn’t wake up at all. Maybe he’d die in his sleep and be able to live the dream with Jack, their love undying as they stay together forever.  
He could dream but he knew that it would never be real. He was smarter than that. So his eyes flutter open and he stares at the ceiling. He’d lay in bed until he could no longer recite the monologues of lies that Jack had spilt to him. The late-night lines, running slowly into each other like the stanzas of a poem. or the early morning whispers, melting like the first snowflakes. 

The sound of early morning clutter stole the last few traces of Jack out his arms and with nothing more than shame, David dragged himself out of bed and slowly started to go on with his day. 

Breakfast was porridge. Normally it would be his favourite, but today it just stared up at him like unmixed paint. He stared at it before looking hopelessly over towards his mother before leaving the table. 

Even getting dressed felt like a task. His shirt felt heavy against his shoulders and it pinned against him when he breathed. His shoes felt like concrete slabs and he wondered if he’d sink if he was to jump into the Hudson. He laughs as that thought washes in and out of his brain on an ever-common wave of self-loathing. It’s not a happy sound, it’s angry and bitter and lost. It crackles like fireworks on the still air as he tugs his shoes on and forces the laces through the holes.

He’s selling when it starts. He tries to ignore the voice in the back of his head. A creature with a voice like demons and teeth like keys. It unpicks the lock on the box that holds his memories of Jack. Flashes prowled forwards, in front of his eyes, like tigers hunting their unsuspecting prey; him. 

He stands alone, in the rain. His arm outstretched and a rolled paper in his hand. His voice, loud and croaking. Raindrops sprint down his face and he blinks his disassociated eyes as he shouts the headline again. Movement captures his attention and his breath catches in his throat. He was sure he saw Jack. But not as a person, standing in front of him. But as a ghost; traces of his laughter on the wind, hints of his smell in the rain-filled air, his smile in the eyes of children, his promise to never run away ripped and torn in puddles. 

His chest heaved. His mind raced. Everywhere he looked he could see Jack. See his love. See him standing at the train station, a one-way ticket to Santa Fe, and a new life. A life that didn’t have David in it. Any hope, and plan, that they had made to be together was nothing more than lies. A rehearsed script to lull him in and break his heart at the end. 

He had to run. If he couldn’t run from his memories, he could at least nurse them away from the prying eyes of New York. It was just like the start of every dream he ever had. 

His stumbling steps ripping wet leaves, the wind howling, and the rain plastering his hair to his tear covered face. An alleyway became his hiding place. Rain lashed against his skin as he tried to ignore the voices in his head.  
He tried to remind himself to breathe, pressing his palm against his chest so hard it hurt. But it didn’t help. His breath caught in his lungs. It felt like roses were growing in his lungs, digging and tearing and ripping at his lungs and up to his throat. He wanted to be sick. 

His mind argued with itself. What had David done in life to deserve this? Who had he hurt to be stuck in the hell that people called living? Had he been a murderer in a past life? Some kind of villain, someone who didn’t pay their dues? Why could he weather every storm of emotions apart from this one? Why was heartbreak the purgatory he was stuck in? 

Why did Jack sleep a summer tucked in his side? Why did Jack touch him the way he did? How did Jack manage to make his heart sing and silence every negative thought he had ever had? What gave Jack the right to take Davey’s childhood in his stride? 

Davey’s body collapsed under the weight of his heartbreak and he drowned in the storm. 

Cora finds him hours later, knees pressed into his chest, and eyes clouded like the sky. She knows she has to help. They’re still friends, right? As she steps closer, he doesn’t move. He just sits there curled in the smallest ball shaking.

She wonders if it’s from the rain that has soaked through his winter clothes or if it’s the fear of his mind. The two former friends sit in silence for a while, Davey’s head on her shoulder. Her eyes darted over his face anxiously; taking note of his blue chattering lips and painfully red hands. She knows she has to get him inside.

The lodgings would be filled with the other newsies; chatting, laughing, yelling, and screaming. With how fragile Davey looks, the last thing he needs is to be screamed at to play cards with Race or be bombarded with the littles. She tries hard to think back to the street where she was selling and the way she walked back. 

She stands suddenly, turning with a nervous flurry. “C’mon David. I gotta getcha inta da warm ‘fore you pass out.” 

David just blinks at her and her outstretched hand. Why was she helping him after he was such an asshole to her and pushed her away as soon as Jack came into his life? What did he do? Suddenly, a puzzle piece slots into place. The newsies are getting rid of him. 

He’s being tossed aside to another borough. Nobody wants a newsie that can’t sell papers and the union needs a leader that can talk. Not one with sunken, blood-shot eyes. Cora was their messenger because they know that he couldn’t shoot her. 

She knows he hates her. But they’re still friends right? and friends help friends, regardless. 

Cora practically has to puppet Davey through the empty streets, pulling him along by his numb fingers. Mud soaks into his pants and there’s a faint trace of blood coming from his arms. Around them, couples dart leading each other through the rain. Someone knocks into him and he turns and stares in the gentleman’s direction. He has an umbrella up and business-like eyes scan the young man’s dirty appearance, almost as if David had some kind of disease.  
He wonders idly where they’re going. If she was going to stay by his side where ever they were, was he going to lose her like he did Jack? 

Maybe I’m just undeserving of love he thinks, eyes focused on their joined hands. It had been so long since they had just been together and he savors their few moments together, even if he’s not there. He can hear Cora talking to him but it’s vague and smokey as if she was talking to him while she watches him drown. She mentions Brooklyn and his unsteady breath catches again. They are sending him away to Brooklyn. 

It’s almost a nice surprise when Cora pulls him into a cafe. It’s quiet, the only sounds being the low chatter of the staff. They sit in a booth, third from the door. It’s warm and it helps him calm slowly. His mind stopped whirling and silence lingered in his head. His eyes hurt and pressure pounds in his temples. There are small patches of red against his sleeves and if he could muster it, he’d laugh at himself. 

He fiddles with the cuffs of his shirt, picking at the stray threads. She’s disappeared again and he wonders if she’s snuck out the back, abandoning him like unwanted kittens on the side of the road. 

Davey stares at the table wondering how long he can sit in the warmth before she tells him to get up and go. 

There’s sudden pressure on his shoulders and it makes him whine. It’s a low, gurgling sound from the back of his throat. It sounds like an animal in pain. She lays a blanket over his shoulders and presses a warm cup in his hands.  
The bitter fall winds and panic had zapped the feeling from his fingertips. He cups the tea closer to his body, the heat and the weight helps ground him. The world smacks back into being and his eyes dart around the cafe before looking at Cora, in his alertness he looks more lost than he’s ever looked before.  
His lost eyes feel like a punch to her gut and she curls into a ball. Dainty fingers massaging the cold soles of her bare feet. That won’t be a feeling she has for long, a one-way ticket to Santa Fe wouldn’t cost that much, and who needs shoes when walking in the sands under the different-but-the-same New Mexico sun? Her eyes drop to the floor, the rain outside, the stains on his sleeve; anything that isn’t the helpless look in his eyes. 

“A-are ya hungry? I-I gotta dime left…I-i ain’t seen ya eat f-fa a-” she thinks. When was the last time she saw David eat anything more than a few beans? “fa a lil” The ever-common smile creeps its way across her face as she swings her legs out the booth again. He blinks a little, eyes moving a few moments after she left. 

Did she still care about him? She’s acting as if nothing had happened. As if no time had passed between them joining the newsies and him telling her to leave him alone. She was acting like David didn’t slowly stop spending time with her, stopped selling and dancing and reading with her. How could she still care about him after he broke a twelve-year friendship? 

Maybe I am deserving of love? Just maybe.

The sudden clatter of a plate makes him look at her. When she smiles and sits down, he manages a smile back but it comes out more like a grimace. But by the way that she squeezes his hand, she appreciates his effort. The sandwich seems unappetizing and something in the back of his mind is worrying.  
He hadn’t eaten for a few days and his body was weakened by the starvation but the idea of him eating made his stomach flip dangerously. She cuts it into smaller pieces and curls her legs under her. 

“Maybe youse should stay home for a lil while? Help ya ma nd Sarah round da house…till ya feeling a little better” 

Oh. 

He was right. 

She is being nice about kicking him out. He nods in agreement and picks at the bread, squishing it between his fingers before putting it in his mouth and chewing. He was never good at getting social cues, the Manhattan newsies are bored of him, they’re leaving and Cora is the sacrificial lamb. 

Cora squeezes his hand, she knows what it sounds like. But she wanted Davey back. her Davey. The one that laughed and span her around as they walked home. The one that held onto his brother’s hand and looked at him with admiration, not with bitterness. 

When he swallows, he sees her smile and the grip on his hand tightens. “M so proud you.” 

“what are you proud’ a me for?” The words come out like broken glass shards and they slice deeply into her skin; it takes seconds for her to bleed out silently as she wracks her brain for an answer. She was proud of him for so many things. “ya ate for the first time in weeks..nd sure it’s just a lil bit..m proud of you for everythin'.” 

He nods, a fresh wave of tears brewing in his stormy eyes. Someone was proud of him. But only because he ate. He feels stupidly childish but happy and the corners of his lips twitch into a small, soft smile. “Thank you” 

Davey’s fingers knot together as she nods at him. She moves slowly out of the booth again and presses a soft kiss to his temple. He remembers her doing it to him when he was a child, after falling off the swingset and cutting his palm. She had held him like she was doing now and pressed her lips against his skin so gently he could have imagined it in his painful haze. 

He feels her pull away and squeeze his shoulder. “I guess I’ll go back to the lodgings and get my stuff” the words come out with a shrug, his fingers brushing against his temples. It almost hurts when he sees her nod and tucks her arm under him to help his body stand. 

“Ise’ll walk ya back.” 

They walk in silence, arm-in-arm, and eyes downcast to the pavements shining like silver. Les is the first one to greet them both, with a furious hug that knocks an unsuspecting Cora backward. 

Dave smiles sadly when Les helps Cora up. It’s going to be hard to rip Les away from his new family but he couldn’t sell without him. With a sigh, Davey tells him to collect his stuff. 

“why we’re leavin’? are we’s gonna come back? I don’t wanna go, David!” His angry pleas are silenced when Cora kneels and takes his smaller hands in hers.

Her voice is soft and comforting and Les blinks tearfully at her green eyes. He didn’t want to leave. He loved being a newsie. “Les, pumpkin. Ya gonna stay home for a lil, okay? Jus’ until Dave is feeling better.” 

He nods carefully and hugs Cora, he can feel the raindrops falling off her face and into his shirt. When she pulls away she cups his face in her hands and Les pokes his tongue out, eyes crossing in hopes to make her laugh. 

“Les, youse listen to ya brodda yeah?” He nods again, nuzzling his cheeks into her palms. “Jus ‘member that I love youse so much yeah? Now youse be good. Go getcha stuff” 

It’s easier to lie to Race and the others than what it is Les. A few smiles and tight hugs were enough for them to believe that Cora isn’t breaking down. She shares a look with Davey and watches his bottom lip quiver, it’s hard on him too. But she’s going to make things better. 

Even if it kills her. 

Her hands fit so perfectly in Davey’s and she brings them up to kiss at his knuckles as she hugs him close. “M gonna make sure errythin is better,m gonna fix dis I promise” 

Les comes back with their things and his teddy bear tucked safely under his arm. He’s had it since before he was born. Les gives the bear one more tight bug before holding it out to Cora, who takes it confused. Ya gotta keep him safe till we come back and we’s all together again!” 

“Okay Pumpkin” 

That night David stares at the moon, trying desperately to recall any facts that didn’t remind him of Jack. He lays awake and wonders how his life had killed the dream he had dreamed of. 

That night, Cora watches the moon race past the train window. She thinks of Davey. she thinks of the smile that’ll spread across his face when Jack returns and she’s not there.

Three pairs of eyes staring at the same moon and thinking about different things. 


End file.
